On Christmas Eve
by CatherineCameo
Summary: The Watsons may have been doing a little matchmaking.
1. Chapter 1

**On Christmas Eve**

_By CatherineCameo_

On Christmas Eve, the front door to the most famous flat in London, 221 B Baker Street, had a friendly little note tucked under the door knocker. _Come right up._

And if someone were to climb the stairs to stairs to the second floor flat at eight thirty in the evening, they would find a large and happy gathering of the various friends and relations of both John Watson and Sherlock Holmes.

The flat is bursting at its seams with the amount of people enjoying the Christmas spirit inside. Mrs. Hudson is there, of course, having provided her famous fruitcake. Mary Watson and the baby are guests as well, although little Hope has been safely stowed in what was once her father's bedroom. Mycroft and his wife, Anthea are in attendance as well as their teenage daughter. Mike Stanford and his wife, Sophie are the comic relief of party, leaving Harry Watson to forget the presence of tempting alcoholic beverages, much to the delight of her not so new girlfriend, Clara.

"John," Mary whispers in her husband's ear. "Are you sure Lestrade's coming?"

"Yeah, Greg's car was a bit trapped by the snow, so he had a later start. His text said he'd been here any minute."

"Greg? Oh, you mean Lestrade."

"Yes, Greg Lestrade." John chuckles. "You're as bad as Sherlock."

"I'm worse." Mary says, kissing his nose. "That's why you married me."

They are interrupted by a high-pitched wailing that is getting progressively louder, but is still unheard by the party guests.

"I'll get her," John says and goes to check on his daughter.

There are footsteps heard on the stairs and the famous Detective Inspector enters. Mary rushes to greet him.

"So glad you could make it, Greg."

"Thanks for inviting me, Mary." He says and leans in to kiss her cheek.

She grins at him. Her plan is about halfway complete.

"I brought some wine."

"Oh, thank you. Put it in the kitchen, will you? You know the way."

He rushes off to the kitchen, leaving faint wet foot prints on the carpet. Mary shrugs, realizing that it's only water and Mrs. Hudson has had much worse on her floors.

Speaking of Mrs. Hudson, she's had bit to drink and someone's given her a noisemaker. Which she is now puffing away on.

Sherlock and Molly are making sheep eyes at each other in Sherlock's chair (Molly is on his lap) and it's rather cute.

Harry and Clara are huddled behind the Christmas tree, and it seems they'll be necking very soon.

John has returned to his guests, baby in arms and the Stamfords are cooing over her.

It is into this cheerful chaos that another guest is poised to enter.

No one notices the sound on expensive high heels on the seventeen steps into the flat, or if the Holmes brothers do notice, they are much too engrossed in their wives to show it.

"Ah, look who's here." Sherlock speaks up loudly, after a nudge from Molly.

"Janine!" John waves to her from his chair, surprised, but not the least bit embarrassed to be seen with his daughter.

"Hello, John. Mary." She totters in elegantly, her chocolate brown eyes searching the room for other familiar faces. As she slips off her heavy black fur coat, there's an audible intake of breath from nearly all the men, and two of the women in the room. She smiles brightly, white teeth flashing against her crimson lipstick. Her gold dress hugs her body like a second skin.

The sound of a slap breaks the stunned silence. Everyone turns in the direction of the Christmas tree, which hides Clara and Harry from half the guests.

"I thought we were over this." Clara says in a sharp whisper.

"I'm sorry, but are you seeing what I'm seeing?" Harry hisses back, rubbing her cheek. "I mean look at her-"

"Oi, married!" Clara snaps at Harry.

"Sorry." Harry mutters, but then adds. "We're not married again, yet."

Mary crosses the room to greet Janine. After hugs and cheek kissing, Janine apologizes.

"I've been so busy with the painters and decorators all over the house. They had to repaint the walls three times because the store messed up my custom order."

"I'm sorry." Mary says hesitantly. What else could she say? It isn't as though she's had experience with those sorts of "tragedies". _Rich people_, she thinks, amused.

"Oh, don't be. It's not your fault." Janine says cheerfully.

Mary leads her to the chairs gathered around the coffee table.

Mrs. Hudson recovers her manners (or shock?) first and reaches across the coffee table, a smile widening across her face. "Oh, Janine! Darling! It's so lovely to see you again. I've missed your nice loud voice around the house."

Janine takes the old lady's strong grip. "It's lovely to see you, too, Mrs. Hudson. How have you been doing?"

"Oh, terribly," Mrs. Hudson says in a cheerful tone, releasing Janine's hand and gesturing for her to sit. "But then, that's what you expect when you get old. Isn't it, Mr. Lestrade?"

She's apparently speaking to the rather dishy looking man who has appeared with a pair of champagne glasses, as he answers, "I'm not quite there yet, Mrs. Hudson."

"You'll all get there some day," the woman scoffs. "And Sherlock the quickest of all, since he's got no handler, now that John's left him."

Mary laughs. "Mrs. Hudson, I don't think-"

"Oh, no offense meant, Mary, dear. It's just the drugs and all." She sighs as if to say it's a tragedy.

John engages her into a rather boring sounding conversation about her scratch cards.

"Champagne?" asks the Silver Fox.

"Please." Janine says, and then laughs. "I'm not sure we've met…?"

"Greg Lestrade."

"Janine Hawkins," she says. "But you probably already knew that."

"I did." Then his smile drops. "Oh, God. That sounds awful doesn't it, that I just know about your-er, reputation from the papers."

"I was paid for those stories." Janine admits. "I was absolutely in control of what was written."

"Were you?" He looks suitably impressed.

She shrugs. "Easy way to make a living."

"Selling yourself short, you mean?"

"Excuse me?"

He flounders for an explanation. "Writing yourself up as an easy woman."

"Do you think that?"

"Nah. Just reminded me of the wife, is all. She would've admired you, probably does."

"You're married?"

He mumbles an "excuse me" and slips out, footsteps heavy with regret and sadness on the stairs. Janine follows him into the brisk night air.

She finds him leaning against the fence.

"You're avoiding me."

He meets her gaze for a second, the looks away. "I felt like a smoke."

As if to prove himself, Lestrade pulls out packet of cigarettes from his pocket.

"Are you married, then?"

Lestrade's hand, which is ready to light his cigarette, trembles. He curses under his breath and pinches the cigarette between his fingers.

"I was married. And then we got a divorce." He lights the cigarette and takes a drag.

Janine shivers in the cold night air. "I like a man who smokes."

He smiles at her words, shrugs off his jacket and drapes it around her shoulders.

"Do you now?" He asks, releasing a puff of smoke.

"Mm, yes," Janine plucks the cigarette from his fingers and pulled him in for a kiss. The abandoned cigarette snuffs out as soon as it hits the wet snow.

Lestrade pulls back. "I'm sorry. Listen, are you – ."

"Single? Yes. Free tonight? Yes." She smiles in the manner of the self-satisfied.

"I was going to say, a relative."

"No, just an old friend of Mary's," Janine says, thinking of the bump on the head she received late one night.

"I was asking about that kiss."

"I don't mi –."

Janine is cut off as his lips meet hers. The two snog like sexually starved teenagers.

Snow is beginning to drift lazily down from the sky, so the pair breaks for breath. They smile at each other. Lestrade herds Janine inside.


	2. Chapter 2

"They've been snogging!" Xena Holmes announces from the window.

"Xena, come away from that window." Mycroft scolds. "Spy on people, fine, but don't make it so obvious."

Everyone laughs at his unusual phrasing.

She shrugs and goes to speak with Molly, who has gestured to her.

The latest couple comes up the steps again, together thanks to the combined efforts of John and Mary Watson.

Xena, with her back to the door, clatters a spoon against her ice-cream dish. "Everyone listen up, there's some exciting news!"

Everyone turns his or her attention to youngest adult in the room.

"Aunt Molly is pregnant!"

The guests respond with loud cheers, or in Mrs. Hudson's case, a loud puff of her noisemaker.

In their corner, Harry kisses Clara's cheek. "Did you think they were together?" Harry asks, wrapping her arms around her girlfriend.

Clara nods, sure of herself. "Didn't you notice she didn't drink anything?"

"You knew she was preggers?" Harry demands, turning to face her.

Clara smiles. "Of course,"

"Well I'm not drinking anything because John's not letting me." Harry counters.

"Yeah," Clara concedes. "And you are definitely not pregnant."


End file.
